Blood of Four Dragons (5 page)

Iezlear spoke again to their minds directly. “From this moment on the Rozim general shall lead you north after regrouping in your cities, I have felt the change in his heart.” There was no disagreement, everyone could see this moment was historical and represented a fundamental change in the world. The dragon lords have returned two of them anyway and they were free of their terrible curse from generations past. Most of the men were aware of the stories of the four dragon lords, now it was a matter of understanding the stories they had been told their entire lives were all true and coming to terms with all that meant. Iezlear spoke, “Disperse, return home and gather your provisions, you are to begin marching north as soon as you are prepared. You shall merge with many other armies along the way and we shall guide your path as we did your ancestors.” Both dragons then flew away at incredible speed, faster even than when they had arrived. Leaving the men with many unanswered questions, but a focus to move forward, the armies stayed in position for a few minutes absorbing the enormity of what had just taken place. They slowly began to merge, greet one another and then disperse gradually. After merging to talk and begin the process of forming one army to move forward as Iezlear instructed, the men all began to march back to their respective territories in preparation of the northern invasion. They had all been called up by the two generals from various villages and towns across the southern kingdoms for this clash. The slow slog home began for both armies, however now with a newfound purpose, a meaning instead of a simple existence. The dragon lords’ return is the herald of a new golden age and under their guidance the kingdoms will unite in peace and prosper the way they had when dragons ruled in times long gone. The only obstacle is one sorcerer, this Zangonath. How can one wizard hope to defeat all the armies of the world with the dragon lords’ leading them?

The armies were done their marches home. Both sides were greeted with equally raucous celebrations in the streets of their kingdoms as they returned. The Rozim and Grazlin people were in full celebration upon hearing of the dragon lords’ return. Word was already beginning to spread, they were full of wisdom and kindness again, and the ancient curse was lifted. They also rejoiced over the fact that none of their fathers, husbands, brothers, or sons would be murdering their neighbor that day for no reason other than a general felt it necessary to satisfy his ego. The kingdoms were completely abuzz at the news of the dragon lords. Life would never be the same and this change was welcomed. Bells rang out across towns, meetings were held and word spread like wildfire north to south, east to west in a short amount of time. The celebrations continued unabated for two weeks, the people prayed for a sign but none saw the dragons. Instead, the townspeople in each kingdom listened to their soldiers’ give their accounts of the dragon lords’ and the speeches they gave.

The only person not celebrating peace and the return of the dragon lords’ was the Grazlin general who sat in his luxurious room within the kingdoms stronghold, sulking that his glory had been stolen by these dragons. Nothing but overgrown lizards! The general believed the battle would have been the start of a glorious campaign to finally conquer the neighboring kingdom of Rozim, creating his legend. The Grazlin general was a vain and cruel man with strangely enough, feminine characteristics. He enjoyed makeup and various wigs, wanting to appear somehow more than the simple man he actually is. Tapos is his name, as his kingdom celebrates the greatest day in fifteen hundred years of their history the general instead sits in his favorite area, in front of his mirror. Obsessing over the appearance of his face, applying various creams and ointments, convinced that the stress of being humiliated earlier in the day by that filthy red beast had begun to create new wrinkles, all the while muttering and screaming at his two assistants, “Bring the damn pork fat cream here now!” Tapos shrieked. The two panicked assistants hurried to comply handing him the cream as fast as possible, “I will skin this lizard, and I will use his skin as a tent. How dare the men remark on its beauty!” Standing with his face now covered in the pork fat cream, the general grabbed his assistant violently by the collar pulling him face to face. “I am beautiful, not some goddamn lizard, understand you worm?” The terrified assistant nodded as general Tapos finally loosened his grip and sat back down. He went back to being lost in the mirror, applying creams and lotions in various combinations. The door opened and a third assistant entered, the other two in the room either knew him or were too frightened by the general’s previous outburst to move or say anything to set him off again. This third man was very short, maybe five feet tall and extremely slender. Like a wisp he moved into the room and placed a jar of what appeared to be more cream next to the distraught general. The cream was in a small solid black vial. “My lord, he whispered into the general’s ear, this is the special ointment you requested months ago. It shall remove all signs of age and all wrinkles, attracting nothingness to your face. Please apply it and then we shall dress you in your full uniform. You are urgently needed to address your army as well as the townspeople, informing them what the next move is and when they shall march north.”

The general stopped moving or looking into the mirror and hung his head in silence for a moment. Then, grabbing the jar he had just been given he spoke. “Very well, I shall address the army and town filth as to the “wisdom” of the dragons.” He spoke in a very mocking, sarcastic tone sharp enough to cut the air. The general than began to apply the new ointment, the assistant had just given him in its onyx jar. After applying the ointment the general did indeed feel better, looking into the mirror he could see the wrinkles disappear and the years falling away. He had a feeling the power of the universe itself was being drawn to him. Ecstatic, he jumped up from his seat to tell this assistant to go procure as much of this ointment as possible immediately. Turning, he saw only his two previous assistants standing there looking at him dumbstruck. “Where is the third of you?” asked Tapos. “Beg your pardon my lord?” One of the assistants replied. The general reached down and grabbed the onyx jar of ointment, “The man who came in here just now and gave me this you worthless pustule!” The two assistants looked at each other speechless as they had no answer. “Are you both so soft that the mere raising of my voice causes you to miss entire persons entering my private chambers?” The general asked incredulously. Again they stood silent, like two living statues doing nothing but taking up precious air. “Get out!” The general screamed, “I will affix my own uniform, remove yourselves before I have you permanently removed!” The two assistants slunk away quickly leaving the general to don his own dress uniform unassisted.

Applying the uniform and all its badges and medals seemed to take general Tapos no time at all. That ointment truly had made him feel like a new man, he must have more. Once finished properly dressing and spending mandatory time gazing at himself in the mirror adjusting his wig, the general opened his chamber doors and began walking to the city square where he would address everyone, troops and townsfolk alike. Upon reaching the front door of his residence the general was met by his mandatory two man guard. They locked into perfect step on opposite sides of the general and began marching with him to the square where all had gathered. Approaching the town square the general was met by a large contingent of his army, they saluted him and then began clearing a path for the general to reach the center of the square where a podium had been erected for his speech. Moving through the crowd swiftly, the general’s men pushing the people to and fro, Tapos made it to the podium and climbed the stairs to the top. Upon ascending and coming into view the gathered crowd burst into cheers. Tapos wanted to believe it was for him but he knew they were cheering for the dragons.

Standing there, surveying the crowd of townspeople the general glared at them and cleared his throat. His face began to tingle and he could feel small beads of sweat forming on his forehead, not due to public speaking but being in full dress armor in the noonday sun he convinced himself. A hush came over the crowd as the general raised his hands. He was quite a spectacle, artificially young looking with his caked on makeup and wig, and standing there with his medals won for nothing gleaming in the sun. General Tapos began to speak, “Fellow Grazlin citizens,” as he spoke a dark cloud began to form over the podium where he stood. This was no ordinary rain cloud; it was perfectly circular, solid gray with a pitch black opening in the center seeming to lead to nothingness. The outer edge of the gray cloud had a distinct red glow along the lines. As the cloud began to grow in size and rotate, there began a discontented murmur in the crowd, as the size of the cloud grew so did the panic in the crowd. Tapos stood in disbelief, looking up at this cloud above him, if you could call it that. “My face is tingling, I can’t feel my chin,” he said as he began to run his hands along his now burning cheeks. The crowd was now in a fully panicked state; they were running around but going nowhere. All the while everyone’s eyes were locked on this strange phenomenon occurring above the general’s podium. Before there could be any further study or reaction, the black center of the cloud sent a spinning tornado of black energy down onto the face of the general. It appeared as though a huge hand was reaching through the center of the cloud’s emptiness, through time and space itself gripping the general’s face. The vortex reaching down was spinning faster and faster beginning to emit a hum, black mist began spraying from the vortex holding the general which was now spinning at incredible speed. The general remained stationary while the vortex spun in between the point holding his face and the point disappearing into the black hole at its center. Spreading into an ever widening radius the mist released by the spinning vortex grew in intensity and thickness. Growing from a mist to a fog to a murky soup hanging in the air, like death itself becoming visible. The black fog began to overcome those in the crowd, the screams of panic stopped one by one as they were silenced by this pestilence whatever it was.

 
The spinning vortex was humming louder and louder as if approaching some critical state. The general lifted off the ground as a voice spoke one word seeming to split the very fabric of perceived reality. “Depart,” at that moment the strange spinning vortex cloud above the general holding him off the ground as well as the black fog covering the entire village instantly dissipated. When clear vision returned, all the inhabitants lay dead on the ground. The fancy, arrogant general was gone and in his place stood another creature. This other “human” if you can call him this was the color of ash, pale death, and covered in oozing sores each seeming to scream on their own. His face was not human, and horns jutted from where his eyes should have been. Wearing a robe of living maggots, he held his skeletal hands aloft as worms snaked around them. This was BosBul, one of the head necromancers’ serving Zangonath. As he held his hands aloft him he muttered a strange, evil incantation that seemed to fill the void left by the fog. “Ilzus Razulum Qes Stratia,” as these words rang out, the earth itself split down the middle of the village tearing away all in its path. Those lying dead on the ground began to writhe and move, slowly rising one at a time they began walking silently to the podium BosBul stood upon with arms raised. The dead in the village graveyard also began coming from their resting places after the rending of the earth, walking towards the podium. When every raised dead villager was gathered before him BosBul spoke, his voice a dark and hideous whisper, like a snake writhing upon broken glass. His living robe of maggots changed into various grotesque coverings, never remaining still. “Army of chosen, our lord Zangonath hath freed you from your mortal shells, your service is now his. All across your lands our lord is building his army in an instant. The only power lies all in his hands.” The now undead army before BosBul repeated in unison, “All in his hands.” BosBul leapt down from the podium, landing with a sickening crack, none of the maggots seemed to fall from him. Rising and walking slowly as if his pace was set by another for him, he began leading the army of obedient, undead followers back to the lands of their new master Zangonath to merge with the other legions of newly undead.

Powerful sorcerers whether they be good or evil leave a trace for all others to follow each time they use magic. The more powerful the spell the easier to follow, Zangonath had tipped his hand and revealed his plans completely this day. Whether he meant to show this to Bultan or simply was not as skilled as he thought himself remained to be seen. Bultan was still taken by surprise by this offensive. In using the fog crystal in such a way to extract this extreme dark energy across worlds to create undead armies he made his intentions known not only to Bultan, but to all magical beings of the world. Zangonath had attacked thirty one villages and cities at the same time, causing a huge magical rift, even the most inexperienced of wizards would have felt this movement. Bultan immediately knew two things from this dark rending and gathering Zangonath had performed.

The first being that Zangonath was still completely ignorant to the fact that Zebial and Iezlear had awakened or he would not have been this obvious with his attack, he is not aware of the returned guardians and thinks the world of men completely unprepared, he is only half correct. The second thing Bultan knew by this rending was Zangonath’s plans, in his moment of casting; Zangonath’s mind was open to others who are powerful enough to perceive the openness. Bultan was able to peer in and divine a large portion of Zangonath’s evil designs upon the land. This undead army is being built to remove all current human leaders and their kingdoms, replacing them with possessed undead under Zangonath’s control. Once he has accomplished this and consolidates his new lands, he intends to use his army of undead to march north and literally dig the dragon lords’ from the ground. How he intends to find them or remove them from the ground, Bultan was unable to tell. There was now no time to waste, Bultan had sent Zebial and Iezlear upon her full recovery off to begin informing the peoples’ of Oleskia that all rumors they had heard were true and the dragon lords had indeed returned with the curse removed. Bultan was unaware how Zangonath intended to launch his first offensive and assumed before today that they would have ample time to wake the complete four and prepare properly. Now, he realized he was wrong. By this time Zebial and Iezlear being magical creatures would also be aware of the evil Zangonath had wrought. Bultan proceeded to contact them telepathically; they indeed were aware of the new developments in the situation and were already en route to Bultan to begin planning their next step together.